


Notes of the Night

by illustriousphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Night Stand, Oneshot, Phan - Freeform, Phan Drabble, Phan Fluff, Phanfiction, dan plays piano, phan oneshot, short phanfic, short phanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illustriousphan/pseuds/illustriousphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is a street musician in the London Underground, whom Phil stumbles upon late in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notes of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm finally posting a fic ? that's cool. this was inspired by [this edit ](http://awkward-dan-and-phil.tumblr.com/post/124638129885/yourinternetconnection-street-musician-daniel) so shoutout to them. (if ur reading this ur edit is a+) also i have a [tumblr](chemicallester.tumblr.com) if that sounds cool?

Dan wasn’t much for performing. Sure, he could speak in front of crowds, but playing a solo instrument? That was another thing entirely.

Yet, the piano he’d found in the London Underground while coming home particularly late had just stuck out to him. For about three months now, he’d been going there in the middle of the night (as he never went to bed before midnight anyway) just to play.

When he first played, no one was there to watch. He was unbelievably rusty at it. His fingers seemed stiff; this was something he remembered well from his piano lessons. Dan could hardly even play _Fur Elise._ When he’d been trying to fall asleep, all the _good_ memories of piano came rushing back to him. And thus, going to the near-empty Underground in the middle of the night just to play some shit piano became a thing.

Occasionally there were viewers, though he didn’t know why. After forgetting nearly everything from his lessons, the best he could play was the Final Fantasy VII theme.

These are thoughts Dan has as he finds the piano tonight. His hands weigh heavy on the piano. This is the first stage of flight.

The first few notes are rough around the edges. This is stage two. This is taking off.

Then come the chords. The slurs, the swells, the silence of rests. This is his favorite part. Flying is his favorite. Here in the Underground he can feel his pulse in the piano and his wings on the wind.

After this comes the finish. The landing. The catching of his breath. Dan smiles down at his huge hands that can span a twelfth.

A throat clears behind him. Dan tenses. Forgets how to speak.

“You’re really good,” says the voice. Male, definitely. Something about that soothes Dan a little. He manages to turn around.

Blue eyes meet his. “Thank you,” Dan tries. No one has ever complimented him.

“I’m Phil,” says the blue eyes. They smile just as wide as Phil’s mouth.

“I’m Dan.” His nervous energy has up and left. A phantom wind must’ve blown it away.

And they look at each other like they _know_ each other, even though Phil sounds like he’s from the north and Dan certainly would’ve remembered meeting someone like this.

The sculpture of a boy joins Dan on the piano bench. “Hi.”

Dan laughs. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

It wasn’t the question Dan was expecting. “I’m quite good. You?”

“Just fine.”

Dan wonders who’s gonna ask the question first. As they wait in comfortable silence, he decides it’s going to be him. He’s gonna ask. He’s gonna ask.

“Do you…?”

Phil looks at him, not at all confused as Dan had imagined he would be. “My flat has a piano. Well, okay, not a piano. A keyboard. But…?”

Never has Dan felt so at home so easily. He nods, smiling. He gestures at Phil’s hand, asking, “May I?”

“Of course.”

Together they weave a net of fingers, and later, when they reach Phil’s apartment, one of limbs. Of love bites and legs and lips. And later in the night when it can’t really be called night anymore, it’s piano keys.

“Okay, you just keep repeating that part. You’ll know when to stop.”

Phil taps out Chopsticks on his unpracticed fingers. Two missed notes in and Dan laughs at Phil’s concentrating face. His head finds Phil’s shoulder.

“I’m rubbish at piano!”

“Maybe. But come on. We’re so close.”

Coercing Blue Eyes to play again is a futile effort, but Dan insists and puts all their hands in the right places. Phil starts again. Dan comes in. He’s too busy watching Phil succeed to keep playing himself, and before he knows it, he’s watching a one-man show. (Well, of course, the bottom divisi half of that one-man show.)

“Daaan!”

“You were doing so good though!”

“I don’t wanna play anymore.”

“Aw, come on. Even if I pinky promise to play my part?”

They look at each other out of the corners of their eyes. “Fine.”

_Fifth time’s a charm, right?_ Dan thinks to himself, hoping he doesn’t jinx it.

The Jinx gods don’t pay any mind and through the piece they fly.

Dan likes this landing spot.

“Mind if I crash here?”

He means it literally. In the morning he will crash and burn, a feather in flames. He’ll have to ask if this is permanent.

But, for now, Dan is cold and Phil’s bed awaits him not a meter away. In he hopes to climb, to save his strength to fly again tomorrow. Something tells him he won’t need it this time. That something is the voice of home.

“Not at all.”

 


End file.
